


Change, Come To Pass

by vivianne_leigh



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Divergent Timelines, Gen, Period-Typical Racism, Revolution, Slurs, Survival, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 13:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivianne_leigh/pseuds/vivianne_leigh
Summary: Daisy Fitzroy is not afraid to die, but that doesn’t mean she is ready to do so.





	Change, Come To Pass

Her pain is not her weakness.

It is singing through her veins like fire, leaving her crawling on her belly against scratched wooden floors that seems to sponge up moisture leechlike, growing smooth and slick with her blood as she scrapes across the floor to the child, this slip of a girl about to be woman. Her pain is not her weakness- it is an motivator, pushing her to what she needs, and right now she needs to _explain_. She watches her fingers tremble above the blue silk of the girls’ skirt; a hair's breadth from touching, and yet something inside her snaps, just then- a candle snuffs out and the inside of her head goes dark, taking her awareness with it.

They leave her for dead, she later learns. The white man and whiter girl step over her on their way without a second look, like she is horse shit lining their path, an unpleasant part of the environment to be ignored. It is the way it has always been, but will not always be, if she gets her say. And she will.

That is not the problem. It is another insult to be weathered, is all. The problem is that, despite all the careful arrangement of the timeline by the Lutece twins’, the deliberate scheming of Comstock, the very laws of the universe _themselves-_ she wakes _up_.

Daisy Fitzroy wakes up from her own murder, mouth thick with congealing blood and spine radiating daggers of agony, bleeding but alive. This is fine. Alive is something she can _work_ with. Being alive is something she knows how to _do_ . The hurt is still trying to eat her, chew her apart with teeth like needles, but she imagines on Comstock at his lectern, fake sympathy threading his voice as he addresses a crowd, addresses the news of one Daisy Fitzroy's death. “ _And lo,_ _The Lord God said to the serpent, 'Because you have done this, cursed are you more than all cattle, and more than every beast of the field; on your belly you will go, and dust you will eat all the days of your life._ ’” The phantom crowd howls at this, at the delicious irony involved in the death of the _negress bitch_ Fitzroy, and she feels rather then sees her hand grab the wall beside her, shaky as an infant's in resistance. Her fingers smear blood across the whitewash, but she swallows and focuses on her movements, still nursing the embers of humiliation from the imagined speech as she struggles to push herself onto her elbows. She will not become another stepping stone for Comstock’s ego, nor for any of the others who would gladly see her dead. Instead, she focuses on dragging herself toward the door, terribly dead below the ribs. She is not thinking about escaping- instead she is working towards pulling herself forward an inch at a time. That is all.

One inch at a time.

* * *

 


End file.
